


Injury

by Bushwah



Category: Fake AH Crew (Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Case Fic, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Gallows Humor, Gen, Gun Violence, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Mercy Killing, Moral injury, Non-sexual Consent Issues, Serious Injuries, Temporary Character Death, Trolley Problem, impossible choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bushwah/pseuds/Bushwah
Summary: Jeremy needs a mercy kill. Alfredo is the man on the spot.
Relationships: Alfredo Diaz & Jeremy Dooley
Kudos: 16





	Injury

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [New In Town](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24306886) by [Wrespawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn). 



> Alfredo is not immortal, and this is his first time working with the Fakes.

“Rimmy Tim? You okay?”

Alfredo's heart is still pounding from the firefight. Rimmy Tim had jumped right into it like he was fucking suicidal, gone hand to hand to stop the one with the _rocket launcher_ , and now he's hunched over like he's catching his breath, but there's something _not right_ about his breathing, there's something...

“Rimmy Tim?”

The Kingpin's voice comes over coms, brisk but not worried. “Sauce, report.”

“Rimmy Tim is down.” Alfredo's mouth feels numb with the effort of making the words. “He's... he's not responding. I don't know... I don't think he's getting up.”

“Kill him and get out,” the Kingpin says.

Alfredo's head whips up, although the Kingpin isn't there. “Bullshit,” he says. “He needs medical attention, he—”

“He needs a damn bullet to the head is what he needs!” Mogar butts in. “That's the only medical care we can afford to give. If he's not talking, if he's not telling you he's still in the heist, it's your fucking _job_ to put him down.”

“You already did it once,” the Vagabond says, voice low and controlled. “This time he's consenting. Shoot him.”

Alfredo grits his teeth and raises his gun experimentally. Tries to point it at Rimmy Tim, who's looking at him pleadingly. _Surrendered._

He lowers the gun. “I can't.”

The Vagabond makes a wordless noise of frustration. “Rimmy, I'm coming,” he says, ignoring Alfredo. “Got a bullet with your name on it, it'll be over soon.”

What has he done? What is he doing? What is he even doing here? He knows what the right thing to do is.

He looks at Rimmy Tim, who looks... _scared_. (Like he wishes he'd partnered with someone who'd do right by him.)

The Vagabond bursts in, and Alfredo sees his upraised handgun with nothing so much as relief. The Vagabond shoots Rimmy Tim in the corner where his body is slumped, aims more carefully and shoots again, then whirls to Alfredo with his gun pointed down.

“We'll have words later,” he growls, then pauses and looks over Alfredo, who's pressed back against the wall like the Vagabond really had put a gun on him.

“Sauce, are you still in the heist? Or do you need extraction?”

“I...” Time runs like rivulets across a windshield. Rimmy Tim. He'd known the man for such a short period. No, no, he was coming back—but when? “I...”

“Rimmy Tim is okay,” the Vagabond says, voice strangely gentle. “He'll be back on coms in a minute.”

“Let me... let me reload,” Alfredo says, hoping the Vagabond will understand. His hands are shaking, and he steadies them with an effort of will so he can pop the next magazine in. Just a minute. He just needs a minute.

He just needs to hear Rimmy Tim. To know he's okay.

“Eyy!” a familiar voice says. “Think I pulled something, I'll be sitting the rest of this one out. Y'all have fun without me.”

Alfredo doesn't want to say the words, but they come out anyway. “Did it hurt?”

“What sort of question—it was _dying_ , of course it fucking hurt.” The corners of Alfredo's mouth twitch up, a little. “Your job's to avenge me.”

The Vagabond is leading him by the wrist away from the body. “Rimmy Tim, we may have an extraction situation here.” Alfredo can tell his seeming calm is a veneer, but he can't tell what's under it. “Sauce, are you still in the heist? If you can't answer, that's a no.”

Alfredo shakes off the Vagabond's hand and straightens. “I'm in the heist,” he reports. “Where do you need me next?”


End file.
